


Robin Year One

by eikichi



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eikichi/pseuds/eikichi
Summary: Dick Grayson navigates a new world without the formerly warm and sweet guide of his parents.This is essentially my version of Robin's first year in crime fighting.... This Batman is also inspired by what we've seen and heard about Battinson so far.... I haven't posted in a while but I hope you all enjoy it!
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Dick decides to sit down. It’s a small gathering. Three people small. Aside from the people who buried his parents physically, of course. He couldn’t find anyone else he trusted enough to come, though. No one in his family contacted him, unsurprisingly. Most of his father’s side was dead and the mother’s side decided their little family were outcasts. It was always just them. Now his life is filled with strangers. So as Bruce says what a pastor or priest says as Alfred solemnly listens, Dick tunes it out. He always hated being at funerals, could barely handle them, so he opts for looking closely at his new guardians.

Both have stupidly fancy clothes on. Completely impractical for the slightest bit of high impact exercise, but practical for a funeral. All black, to which Dick almost did. Almost. His parents always had a flair for the flamboyant, so he decided to honor that with the tie. Red, green, and yellow stripes vertically danced down the tie. Dick absentmindedly fiddled with it. Twirling the end around and around his fingers. He noticed birds singing cheerfully. He found it funny. A cheerful song in such a dreadful place. He huffed. The sounds from Bruce’s mouth stopped for a moment. The sounds resumed.

Dick sat in between the freshly buried plots. He looked at the disturbed ground. Studied the crevices. Looked at them over and over and over again. His attention was then drawn to the trees throughout the graveyard. He pointedly ignored the graves. He didn’t want to get emotional again. The leaves were so crisp and green, yet the summer light that illuminated the whole scene felt unkind. Distant yet ruthless. As unforgiving as the fluorescent lights that illuminated his parents murder. He feels his expression get darker as he thinks about the sunlight. He’s unable to stop it.

Bruce taps the top of his head gently. Dick looks over his shoulder and up at him.

“Any words?” Bruce’s tone is puzzling. Dick can’t tell if there’s a hint of pressure or a hint of anguish. Perhaps both? Or none at all. Dick doesn’t care either way.

Dick looks at his shoes, and he stretches his legs out and lets them rest on the grass. He sighs, scratches the back of his neck, and then supports himself with both hands on the ground.

“I never liked funerals. First one I went to I was, like, 6. Cried my eyes out, like, the whole time. And the whole drive home. And the whole night. My parents learned to never take me to them after that, hah,” a feigned smirk is plastered across his face, “The last time someone in my family died it was my grandfather on my father’s side. Weird circumstances. Some shit about it was a wild car accident that burned him up so bad they couldn’t tell what was human and what was the damn car seats. All they got was a hand and some hair. My dad had it cremated and it was put into a comically small vase. My dad just kept looking at the vase, rolling his eyes. My mom kept telling him to stop. Then, dad said one of the funniest things I had heard.

‘‘This shit couldn’t even keep a fire going for more than five minutes,’

‘and my mom was like, ‘John, stop it,’

‘and he was like, ‘I’m serious, Mary look at it,’” Dick started to snicker, “Then he got up, and started to go to the fireplace and was like ‘Let’s prove my theory, Mary,’” he looked behind at Bruce who huffed to restrain a snicker.

“What did your mum say?” Alfred pleasantly inquired.

Dick pitched his voice up to imitate his mother’s, “‘What the fuck, John?’” He lets his voice go back to normal, “she was laughing, too though. Because, he was, like, clearly kidding. He had a mischievous grin on the whole time. ‘Cause we liked to laugh. It was all so awful so all we could do was laugh,” Dick looks forward again, “Because that’s how we are-” he cuts himself off. He feels his expression darkening again, out of his control.

He corrects himself, “Were,” he sighs heavily, “That’s how we _were._ ” He blinks once. He blinks twice. Tears begin to form.

“Well, that’s it. I’m done.” he quickly leaps up, and begins to walk briskly away from the scene.

The next five hours were spent feeling like five minutes. He got ‘home’ and locked himself in his new room and laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked at the clock and it had said one in the afternoon. He just laid there, sorting out himself. Everything felt distant. The soft bed felt dull, the smell of freshly cleaned sheets were almost nonexistent, and the cooling effect from air conditioning was barely there to him, despite the vent being right above him and messing with his hair. All he concentrated on was isolation and getting back to himself, in a sense. He just felt.... out of reach with himself. Almost afraid if he sat up his soul would completely separate from his body.... Almost.... Almost, almost. Everything in this moment was just an almost. He heard a knock on the door. He tried to ignore it. The knock got louder. Dick’s eyes looked back at the clock. It apparently was six in the evening now.

_What the hell?_

“Master Grayson, it is time for-”

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” The time snaps him out of his stupor. And it launches him into another incredibly awkward dinner in which both Alfred and Bruce attempt to make conversation with a sulking teenager. It’s futile. He never responds, nor does he pay attention. He usually assumes they’re talking to each other. He eats as much as he can. It isn’t as much as he used to, but his new caretakers don’t know that. It’s just enough to keep them off of his ass. After he eats, he returns to his room, locking the door once again. He opts to look over his notes.

Tonight, he furthers his research into the killer of his parents.

He finally gathered a name to match the man he saw speaking with his former ringleader. Tony Zucco. It took a couple of weeks and each night being sleepless but the night before his parents funeral he finally got the name. It was one of the only reasons why he could even walk up the hill to their final resting place that morning.

And now, for the 20th night in a row, he sneaks out again.

Each night, he felt himself under the watchful eye of the Batman.

It aggravates him to his core.

Now, does Dick Grayson have his suspicions about Batman’s true identity? He’d be an idiot not to. Bruce would mysteriously be absent almost every night he was there. Every time Dick would ask him about his whereabouts Bruce would dismiss him or brush off any concerns. Dick once even threw him a curveball.

“So, what is it, Brucey? A gay lover?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you’re sneaking out so much? Because everyone already knows you’ve been around the block with all of Gotham’s most beautiful women. I’m just wondering if you ran out of women and decided to play for the other team~.”

Bruce had sighed, staring at him blankly, “It’s nine in the morning.”

“And you haven’t had much sleep~”

“Neither have you.”

“Touche, B.”

Tonight he didn’t really care. All he cared about was locating Tony Zucco. He didn’t have the best plan for when he saw him. He only had an idea about the location as well. Best course of action was to get a confession recorded onto his phone and run the hell back to Wayne manor. The dagger in his coat pocket was for defense purposes. At least, that’s what he would tell someone if they asked. The taser he had in the other pocket was for interrogation purposes. He had smudged black eyeshadow all around his eyes to conceal his identity as well as a face mask covering half his face. Despite the heat, he wears a black leather jacket and plain blue jeans. An outfit he often wore when sneaking out before he ever even came close to Wayne Manor.

He tries to stick close to the shadows and keep away from the seemingly always watchful eye of the Batman. His phone vibrates. He turns it off instead of checking it. Soon he came close to the targeted neighborhood after getting lost a couple of times. Rumors swirled about one of Zucco’s hiding places being in a seemingly normal looking house here, and so Dick decided to investigate. He heard a noise from a rooftop. He tried to stay optimistic.

_Stray cat. It’s a stray cat trying to get into a rich person’s garbage. It’s gotta be._

A shadowy figure that towered over him appeared about 10 yards away. He stepped forward, revealing himself in a street light in ever so stupidly dramatic fashion.

_Off by one letter. Stray bat._

Dick stopped in place, and sighed.

“Now-”

“Why in the _hell_ are you stalking me?” Batman stopped for a moment, and then continued to move forward.

“Why in the _hell_ are you out so late?” Batman retorts, echoing Dick’s words.

Dick scoffs, “Huh. Sounds like you think you’re my father. Too bad I don’t have one to answer to,” his head tilts to the right, and his chin goes down. His defiant eyes are the only things that remotely look up at the Batman. And the Batman stops. A few inches away from him. Dick is shaking, not from fear. But from anger. He’s tired. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t stopped being exhausted since the night his parents fell to their death.

“You should turn around now.”

“Why? Why is what I may or may not be doing any of your business?”

“This isn’t something you really want to do,” Dick rolls his eyes. He momentarily contemplates using that taser on him, “It’s something you can’t take back, Dick.”

“Huh,” Dick squints at him, lifting up his chin finally.

“What?”

“I’ve passed by at least 200 people tonight. Subways, streets, etc. Usually when I look normal I have a phone in my direction. Noises towards me. Fake condolences from the masses. Not a word from anyone tonight - except you. _Why is that, **B**?_” A shit eating grin comes across face. The Batman’s face is unchanging.

Suddenly, smoke fills the air. A flash of pain at the back of his head. Then there is darkness.

Dick wakes up in a dim room. He’s on a makeshift bed on the ground. It’s comfortable, though.

“I cleaned your makeup off. You looked ridiculous,” Dick turns his head to the noise at the right of him.

The Batman sits in a large chair. One leg crossed over the other. Dick sighs.

“What stupid ass lecture am I gonna get now?”

Batman cracks a slight smile that’s taken away the instant he feels it on his face. Dick huffs. Batman stands up. He takes off the cowl, revealing Bruce’s face.

Dick was 94% sure before that moment, but a pang of shock was still felt in his chest. He didn’t expect the cowl to go off so fast.

“You pick up on clues fast.” Dick takes a long blink in response. He sighs. He sits back on his heels.

“Of course. You _let_ me find out,” Dick rolls his eyes.

Bruce chuckles, “Yes, _of course_. Because to Alfred’s dismay as soon as I figured out why you were sneaking out I had an idea.”

“Lay it on me, B, you’ve interrupted my Friday night research,” it’s at that moment Dick realizes the dagger and taser is missing from his jacket. He sighs in frustration again.

“We become allies-”

“We already are, in a sense.”

Bruce huffs, “If you’d let me _finish-_ ”

“If you’d get to your _point-_ ”

“I want you to fight by my side, Dick,” Dick raises an eyebrow. He shifts into a criss crossed position on the bed. He scratches at the back of his head. He contemplates. Suddenly, Bruce joins him on the ground in the same position, “Something is holding you back.”

Dick sighs. He’s choosing his words wisely. He looks over at Bruce. Seeing him in this position any other time would’ve launched a flurry of teasing insults at Bruce’s way. Instead, Dick opts for a genuine response, “Is this out of, like, pity for my situation? Are you _actually_ going to take me seriously? Or is this just to look good to the rest of the world since you’re so.... Overly brutal.”

“I’m trying to lessen my brutality.”

Dick scoffs, and echoes Bruce’s words in a slightly light-hearted teasing, “ _Trying._ ”

“Point taken. Your concerns are valid. I understand them.”

Dick scoffs once again, this time in disgust, “You sound so _fake._ ”

“I am being _genuine._ ”

“Yeah, I rea~~lly believe you right now,” there was a thick layer of sarcasm in the statement. Bruce hangs his head down. He looks back up at Dick. He sighs. The corner of his mouth twitches for a moment. Bruce looks over to the right. He scratches at his chin. He looks at Dick once again. He takes a deep breath.

“Did you know - I am both the youngest and newest of the world’s superheroes. And not one of them takes me seriously _still._ Well, except Superman,” subconsciously Dick’s eyes light up in response to hearing his name, “but that’s to be expected. But think about it - I have no powers. Except money and intelligence. I restrict myself to the city of Gotham in which a rat just stole my pizza yesterday. I refuse to let a single one of them know my identity. I am seen as young, impulsive, and untrustworthy. Letting a child be by my side is going to emphasize that point of view even more. And I’ve been at this for two and a half years. I am not doing this to make myself look good. I am not doing this out of pity. I despise the concept of pity. I took you in because I relate to you,” he takes another deep breath, “and you need to know that someone relates to you. That you’re not alone. And I want you by my side because I see the potential in you to be better than me, Dick.”

A beat goes by. Dick just blinks at him. Wide eyed, expression incomprehensible, “If you don’t, though, I understand. You can do whatever you want as you normally were, however,” his tone shifts into a more stern and scolding one, “I am not going to let you hunt Zucco down yourself.”

Dick’s head swirls with incomprehensible thoughts. Indecipherable. His feelings are muddied and racing from one to the next. His next words are almost on instinct, “So, if I join you, we take Zucco down?”

“Zucco runs many things in this city. You know this by now. It’ll take a while to build a case and take him down little by little, but together we can do it. I can tell by how you operate.”

“You.... You have to swear to me you’ll take me seriously. That my opinion and such is actually gonna matter.”

“And you have to swear to me that you’ll follow my orders for once.”

“Am I allowed to question them? My parents always taught me to question authority,” not a hint of mischievousness is in his voice.

“Yes. Open discussion is allowed,” Bruce huffs, “Fine.”

Dick suddenly jumps up. He reaches a hand out to Bruce, “Let’s swear on it then, B.”

Bruce accepts his hand up. He stands up.

“It’ll be an oath. For the both of us.”

Dick cracks a shit eating grin, “Then can we light a candle first? I can barely see in this damn place.”

Bruce sighs, “ _Fine._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

The oath was sworn on each other’s hands, a bible was too taboo for the both of them. Especially after what they went through. Dick was ushered to bed soon after, ordered to think of a name and costume for himself while Bruce was going to think on training exercises.

He stayed up the entire night, staring at the ceiling.

He had no clue what the hell he was going to be. 

_However,_ he had a different kind of plan.

“So,” Dick began, “I couldn’t figure out my alias. However,”

“Not a clue on what you will be?”

“Shut up, Bruce. Anyways, I have… a story for us to use.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, “A story?”

“Because they said they don’t trust you because you don't share shit about yourself right. Well, what if we just… made something up. Like, combine a bunch of movie protagonists’ motivations and make something up from there while keeping our sense of privacy.”

Bruce leans back into his seat, face completely unreadable. Dick noticed how Bruce’s face had become unreadable since he revealed his secret identity to Dick. Perhaps it was a symbol of trust? Mixed unreadable emotions from a man who clearly struggles to express them? Perhaps, “It’s an almost twisted idea,” Dick sighs. _That_ tone. He feels another lecture coming, “However, I think it is a solid one.”

Dick smirks, “Excellent. So what happens in a shit ton of movies to protagonists your age? Their wife dies, wants vengeance. What happens to protagonists my age a lot? Mother dies, wants vengeance. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Bruce leans forward. Elbows on the table. Dick resists a laugh at the sight of the prim and proper Bruce Wayne having his elbows on the table, “Does this mean we’re going to pretend we’re blood related?”

Dick nods swiftly, “Yep! But I’m gonna say I look more like mom, and your hair is lighter. You pull me away and scold me for this. They buy it.”

“That _alone_ sells it?” He almost sounds condescending. It annoys Dick.

Dick shakes his head once, “I’m gonna pretend I’m a talker. To both heroes and villains. They’ll likely assume I’m a kid who’s an excitable nervous talker. Everyone will underestimate me.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow once again, “You want to be underestimated?”

“Of course,” Dick smiles, but there’s no sweetness to it, “They will already. I’d be an idiot to think they wouldn’t. _So,_ why not _**exploit it.**_ ”

For once, Bruce smiles, “We’re going to work well together, Dick.”

Dick giggles, “Ya think?”

They decide to go into town to get some clothes. Do some light shopping. Pay the paparazzi an un-delightful visit. There’s flashing lights. Bruce tries to keep him covered with his coat. As he's ushered into the store of interest, Dick wonders how much of the Bruce Wayne schtick he shows the public is an act. His wondering is interrupted by his voice, softer than the voice he hears at home, “Pick out whatever you want. Consider it a part of your birthday present.”

_Oh, that’s right. I turn 16 in two weeks. Huh. Strange._

It’s a rather expensive clothing store. Dick’s never been in it before. People are staring. _So that’s why he made his voice softer. The persona’s voice is soft._

Dick steps forward. He looks around at all the expensive clothing that surrounds him. He finds himself drawn to a biker jacket. Leather, black with a blue sheen. Simply beautiful, in his opinion. Very cool, in his opinion. Slightly bigger than he is currently, but he thinks he’ll grow into it. He looks at the price tag. It reads 5,000 dollars. He grimaces. Bruce silently appears over his shoulder.

“Oh, that’s a good price,” Bruce genuinely remarks in his persona’s voice. Dick sighs. He looks forward with a deadpan face, hidden from Bruce. _He would say that,_ “Don’t you think it’s a little big for you?”

Dick shrugs, “I’ll grow into it. I’m opting for the long haul with this.”

Bruce furrows his brow, “I can just buy another one when you grow out of it.”

“I like presents to last for a long while. Call me crazy, I guess.”

Bruce exhales quickly, amused, “Then it’s settled. The other part of your present is a surprise, though.”

“Figures.”

Bruce smiles. He would think it’s fake, but Bruce’s eyes give away the genuineness. It surprises Dick.

Dick decides to smile back. He feels a twinge of sadness. He wonders if his smile portrays this. Or perhaps his eyes.

They eat lunch back at the manor. Dick indicated to Bruce in the town car that he wanted to go back. Dick wordlessly felt overwhelmed. His head was spinning. He felt lightheaded. It was beginning to be too much. Bruce wordlessly abides.

Dick wore the new jacket in the car. And at lunch. And at dinner. He hung it up before he went to sleep, though. He didn’t want it to be wrinkled.

He finally slept after a few hours of laying there, staring at the wall. Thoughts racing too fast to be grasped. Sleep brought nightmares with no visuals. He woke up panicked, confused. Restless. Alfred knocked on the door soon after he woke up. Dick came down, ate breakfast.

“Any thoughts?” God dammit.

“Not yet… I’m sorry.”

Bruce exhales quickly, he feels a twinge of disappointment from Bruce, “Don’t be, you have a lot to think about. Identity or not, though, you will begin training today.”

“Physical shit, huh?”

“No, mental. I know you’re quite capable physically. You would just need to learn some new techniques and such there. Mentally, though,”

Dick scoffs, jokingly so, “You think I’m stupid?”

Bruce pauses, and squints at Dick, “ _No._ I don’t want to be allied with stupid people, Dick. I want to sharpen your skills and lead you into the direction of being a detective. You need to analyze people. Make it your instinct to do so," he pauses, clearly choosing his next words carefully. Dick leans back into his chair, he squints. Bruce continues, “I think, you analyze people on a different level than me.”

Dick cocks his head to the right, “What?”

“Your little idea said so yesterday. You’re a performer, naturally so. You analyze people as such. I need you to shift that into more of a detective perspective, keeping the performer aspect if you need to. You will, actually. It’s ingrained into yourself,” _Jeez, he's gonna do this to me all the time, huh._

“So that’s what it means to be a detective, huh? Analyze everyone and reveal your findings to freak them fuck out, or attempt to, huh?”

Bruce arches both eyebrows for a moment, “In a sense, yes. See, you’re already on track to that.”

Dick leans forward on the table, his elbows land on it naturally, and he squints at Bruce, “Soft.”

Bruce scowls in confusion instantly, “What?”

“In public you soften your voice up. It’s a part of the public Bruce Wayne persona. Makes you likable. Contributes to charisma. As the Batman you leave your voice be more powerful, but not forcibly. You make it natural sounding. At the manor, when no one but Alfred and I are listening, your voice is almost in between. Not so soft but also not so harsh. I think that’s your natural voice.”

Bruce blinks once, “Because?”

“Be….cause…. Because…?”

“What’s the conclusion of me using my real voice with you two?”

“Because…. You…. trust us…?”

“There you go. You need to begin to draw conclusions with the things you observe, Dick. Solid conclusions. You cannot doubt them. You need to observe more, as well.”

“Like?”

“Smells, color of clothes, conditions of clothes, types of clothes, eyes, whether they’re covered or not. Covered implicates a person hiding something. Typically sad. Uncovered implicates they’re honest, or it may be the perception of honesty. You need to see through a lie. Some will look you in the eye while lying. Gestures are important. Some may be too focused on fooling you with their eyes that they don’t think about their gestures. Some cover all bases. Natural performers typically do. Mouths reveal a lot too. Subconscious mistakes.”

“What if they flawlessly cover all bases?”

“Then, if you suspect something, investigate. That’s something else you’ll need to learn. Where to put your energy. How to hack. Useful things like that.”

Dick smirks, “Can I-”

“You cannot hack the Bat Cave.”

“What about the Justice League computers?”

Bruce pauses. He considers it, “If anyone asks, I said no.”

Dick smirks, “That’s my goal then.”

Bruce sighs. He knows what Dick’s other goal is.

“Well, when do I start?”

“A gala. A person of interest will be there tomorrow night. What kind of interest do you wonder? You’ll see. You’ll figure it out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I also want a report on every single person you interact with at that gala, Dick. I want your conclusions and the suspects on who you think may be of interest.”

“A… report… How many people are attending?”

“It’s small. Fifty people. Little charity function. People from all over will be there. Reporters, elites, etc.”

Dick holds up a hand, “ _Pause._ I have to write a damn report on fifty different people? During the _summer?_ You’re giving me homework _in the fucking summer?_ ”

Bruce smiles, “You _are_ serious, _aren’t you?_ You know what, I’ll make it easy on you. You have one week to give me your report following the end of the charity gala.”

Dick scoffs, “ _Asshole._ ”

He’s gonna give him the damn thing in less than 24 hours just to show him.

Once again, Bruce smiles.

Alfred helps Dick with the formal suit. Dick is silently appreciative.

“Now, the tie. I will help you once, as I have with Master Bruce when he was younger than you. But after that, you’re on your own,” Alfred says, placing Dick in front of the mirror.

“At least explain it, then.”

Alfred scoffs, “Of course. I’m not a Bruce Wayne level asshole, Master Richard.”

Dick giggles, Alfred’s hands are placed at his shoulders, patiently waiting for him to stop laughing, “So you think so as well?”

“It’s an objective fact. He’s a nice asshole, though.”

Dick scoffs, “Sometimes.”

Alfred smirks, then he looks sad. It’s the eyes that betray him. It catches Dick off guard, “Sometimes.”

The gala is boring as dirt. Dick goes around, forcing himself to talk to each person.

Vicki Vale. Nice gal, she annoys him. The way she talks about Bruce implies she’s either into him or they banged. Probably the latter. He’s putting that into the report.

Harvey Dent. Almost sickeningly nice. Also annoys him. Talks about Bruce as if he’s known him for a while. Probably banged Bruce. Also going into the report.

James Gordon. Avoids talking about Batman. Interests Dick. Potential person of interest of the party. Didn’t bang Bruce, seems to be more of a father figure to him due to the way he talks about him. Bruce may look up to him?

Then there’s several elites that are almost same-y. Fake nice. Shit like that. Dick starts to realize the truth of Bruce's statement about choosing where to invest one’s energy.

Dick stares at the notes in his phone. He’s missing one damn guest. He takes a sip of water and is about to search for him until an unrecognizable man appears in front of him. He looks like someone he knows of not know knows.

“ _Hello~_ I’m Clark Kent, a friend of your…,” Clark’s eyes look over to the side. He makes a face, contemplating Bruce’s title. Dick finds it amusing.

“Guardian,” Dick evenly replies. _No need to search, then._

“Yes, guardian! Sorry it took so long for me to introduce myself, you’re quite fast and I didn’t want to interrupt your conversations.”

_He’s been keeping an eye on me?_

“Yeah, Brucey thinks I should be more social and I’ve never really been to this sort of thing until now…”

Clark smiles, he seems very warm. Inviting, his accent is midwestern. His name is familiar, “Ah, yes. I remember when the Daily Planet first told me to cover something like this. I had to get a suit from Goodwill, haha,” _Ah, that must be where I’ve seen him,_ “They can be intimidating until you see how dull they really are.”

“ _Ohhh,_ I remember you now. I like your writing style. Very engaging,” Clark’s eyes seem to actually sparkle in response.

“ _Really?_ You like my writing style?” Clark seems giddy. Dick feels himself getting lighter. _Clark’s demeanor is disarming. Noted. I need to focus._

“Well _duh,_ I don’t compliment people unless I mean it,” Dick leans into the persona he’s trying to build for Dick Grayson. Bad boy-ish, cool but sweet. But he feels his eyes betray it. Clark cocks his head to the right. He squints. Something in his eyes changed. He picked up on the facade. Dick can feel it. _Observant._ Dick decides to get the upper hand, “Near or far?”

Clark makes a confused face, “What?”

 _There really is nothing like throwing someone off,_ “Your eyes. They’re prescription glasses, huh? Near-sighted or far-sighted?”

Clark blinks a couple times, “Ah! Far-sighted.”

“Is it bad?” Dick wonders to Clark. Clark huffs out in amusement.

“Somewhat.”

Dick scoffs, his expression changes, and he squints, “What kind of answer is somewhat?”

“Like, it’s not that bad.”

“Lemme wear them,” Dick says suddenly and seriously, reaching up to Clark’s glasses. A hand grabs his wrist a little too quick. Strangely quick. Dick tries to not let Clark know he noticed.

“Sorry, Metropolis has its fair share of freaks,” Clark laughs, trying to brush the action off, “Why are you so interested, Mr. Grayson?”

“Just call me Dick like everyone else. I don’t give a shit about formalities. Strong grip, by the way.”

Clark laughs again, his grip loosens, “I work out a lot. Even if I’m from the country doesn’t mean some ass from the city can mug me, hah,” the line feels… rehearsed in Dick’s opinion.

Dick smirks. He flattens his hand out, and does the ‘hand it over gesture’, “Glasses. I wanna try them on.”

Clark lets go of his wrist. Dick snatches his glasses and immediately puts them on.

“Huh,” Dick cocks his head to the right, the glasses fall down his nose as it’s a little too big, “Your vision is somewhat fucked.”

Clark bursts into a loud laughter, people turn around and stare. Vicki takes a picture just as Clark adjusts Dick’s glasses. Dick glares at her. He sees Bruce in his peripherals.

It’s been 18 hours since then. He drops the report in Bruce’s lap at the Bat Cave. Unfazed, Bruce looks up at Dick. This is the second time Dick has been brought into the Bat Cave. Bruce opens the report. He silently reads through it. His expression is unchanging. Dick gets impatient.

“Clark Kent.”

Bruce doesn’t look from the report, “What about him?”

“That’s the person of interest. Clark Kent.”

Bruce arches an eyebrow, “You could at least let me read through this before you spoiled the ending, Dick,” he flips through the pages, skipping to the end where Dick reports on his interaction with Clark.

“Why, though? What’s your deal with him?”

“Let me finish, impatient one.”

Dick rolls his eyes. He finds a seat that wasn’t in the cave before. He dramatically collapses into the seat. Bruce doesn’t even flinch. It annoys him.

“Now,” Bruce sets the report down on the table beside him, “You want to know why I find him interesting?”

“Duh,” Dick scoffs, Bruce lets a smile betray his mouth for less than a second.

“Well,” Bruce puts his hands into his lap, he huffs, “I have found some evidence and reason to believe that Clark Kent is actually Superman.”

Dick almost screams the word, “ _WHAT?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bitch i got PLANS okay JHDFGKHDKJFG  
> listen it may take me a while to update bc im working a lot but trust and believe im seeing this project through to the end bc im excited to take this where i want to take it


	3. Chapter 3

Dick holds a hand up. He regains his composure quickly, “I mean..... _What?_ ”

Bruce on the other hand looks positively amused, he wears a wry smile, “Are you.... A fan of Superman, Dick?”

Dick scoffs, he rolls his eyes, “Well _duh_ , B. He’s only the coolest superhero _ever._ He fucking,” a pause as he collects his thoughts and vomits them out to an unsuspecting Bruce Wayne, “Shoots lasers out of his _eyes_. He flies so effortlessly and he so fucking _fast_. Like, okay, Flash is fast, but Supes has more than just that, y’know? And he’s so damn _nice_ , too I feel like you could really hang out with him, y’know? Like, he isn’t fake.... _Is he?_ ”

Bruce huffs, still amused, “He is quite nice. Can be stubborn, but no one’s perfect. He’s quite divine in the flesh.”

Dick almost falls out of the chair he leans it back so far, but he catches himself, “And _you_ are telling _me_ that I talked to Supes without even _knowing it?_ ”

Bruce holds a finger up, “ _Now now,_ I said I _suspected_ him to be Clark. Could be a guy that just looks like him a lot like some people. Doppelgangers do exist however the behavior we’ve both observed says otherwise. I’m… conflicted, however.”

“Huh?” Dick tilts his head to the right, “Why?”

“Superman… he’s the only one who hasn’t pried about my private life at all. He’s respected me… So I should respect him-”

“But you can’t help it. Your nature says to investigate, hm?” Bruce huffs in response to Dick’s question.

“You catch on quick. This may have been a mistake, hah.”

Dick has a sudden wave of nervousness, “I have a weird idea.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, “What?”

“You’re not going to go for it, but I’m gonna throw it out there anyways,” Dick was never one for sugarcoating, “I think we should tell him our identity.”

A stern, “No,” is said less than a second after Dick throws the idea out.

Dick simply shrugs, “Figures. But it’s Superman. I don’t think he gives a shit about our identities just if we’re assholes or not - and we are, but not in the _bad_ sense.”

Bruce sighs, he closes his eyes, clearly annoyed. Dick feels a twinge of pain within him, and suddenly Bruce’s eyes snap open, “New subject,” he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and unlocks it. He does a few taps and slides it over to Dick, “Here are some ideas for your alias.”

At that point, Alfred entered the room, water for the both of them in hand. Alfred peaked at the phone, and then glared at Bruce, “You really are intent on putting this boy into danger, hm?”

Dick ignores Alfred in favor of the shitty names in the list, “Bat-Boy? Bat- _mite_? Bruce you’re killing me here. These are so fucking _lame._ ”

Bruce huffs as his nostrils flare, “I _thought_ they were quite nice.”

“Makes sense from a guy who calls himself _Batman_ ,” Bruce immediately glares at him as Alfred snorts.

“ _Sweet little robin,_ ” a woman’s voice rings out in his mind, and his expression changes subconsciously. A feeling of nostalgia and longing takes over before he realizes the owner of the voice that invaded his consciousness in this odd little moment, “ _Don’t be so sad, my little robin. When you’re old enough you’ll get to do the No-Net trick. We just want you to be safe._ ”

It was a memory. It made him sad and happy at the same time. Dick’s elbows rested on the table as his hands covered the lower half of his face from Bruce. He could hear him talking but couldn’t understand it. Dick cut through the fog of the memory with one word that knocked Bruce off of whatever he was trying to say.

“Robin.”

Bruce blinks, as did Alfred. Dick lets a hand fall and rest on the table. His right hand smushes his cheek as it supports Dick’s head. Dick sports a grin, but he feels the slight sting of tears in his eyes.

“Dick, what are you talking about?”

“That’s the alias. That’s what I wanna be called.”

“....If I may ask....Why?”

Dick slides the phone back to Bruce.

“My mother coined it for me. My parents always say I remind them of spring. I heard that name more than my own some days,” Dick’s smile got sadder. His head felt heavier.

“Harbinger of storms,” Bruce’s odd choice of words cut through the haze of nostalgia. He notices Bruce’s phone is in his hands.

Dick looks up at him, he scowls in confusion. Alfred speaks up, “What?” Alfred simply ponders.

“In some European cultures, the robin is seen as the harbinger of storms. Some see it if a Robin taps on your window, a death in the family is to come. Some indigenous cultures view the robin as a spiritual guide. In Christianity, a robin tried to remove the thorns upon Jesus’ crown when he was on the cross. The robin was pierced while doing so.”

Dick blinks, and interrupts, “You googled ‘robin symbolism’, didn’t you, Bruce,” Alfred snorts in response.

“Symbolic meaning, not symbolism,” Bruce corrects, “No matter, it is such a small little bird, seemingly delicate, very strong in spirit. Touches people deeply. I believe it’s the perfect alias for you.”

Dick rolls his eyes, _Whatever the hell that means._

Dick finally gets some good sleep for once that night. A couple hours worth, but it’s better than what’s been getting. Or, lacking actually.

He finally wakes up earlier than everyone else, which is a habit that he picked up on while moving around with his parents. He often made the three of them breakfast and coffee since they had to do so much for him. It brought the warmest smiles to their faces that he’s ever seen, so it was always worth it.

Dick didn’t make breakfast this time, though. Instead he did make the coffee and opted to investigate the large kitchen to see where everything was located and how things worked.

It was then Dick discovered that Bruce was an early riser as well. He turned around after investigating the toaster to see Bruce standing next to the large island. His hair was disheveled, his black slippers were fluffy, and his fancy robe was open to reveal the black silk pajamas Bruce apparently wore to bed. Dick sports a simple dark blue t-shirt and black sweatpants. _Figures._

“Huh, I thought Alfred finally beat me to the punch,” the coffee maker made a noise indicating its closeness to the end of its current cycle, and Bruce’s eyes darted to it for a moment, “Why are you up? Nightmares?”

Dick head tilts to the right, “No.... I always woke up super early. Dunno why, it’s just a habit I had,” he purposefully holds back the information pertaining to his parents, “You try to get up before Alfred?”

“It annoys the hell out of him. Gives me a lecture about the benefits of sleep and such every morning because of that. It’s fun, in a sense,” something about the statement feels fake. Bruce isn’t awake enough to put the ever so perfect cool emotionless facade on. Dick decides if he should call him out on it.

A beat passes by. He decides to, “Nightmares are the real reason why, isn’t it?” An uncomfortable silence follows. A beat passes. Then two. Then ten. All Bruce does is stare at Dick as the coffee maker begins to quiet down. Dick begins to regret his decision.

“You held something back, so I will as well,” the statement wakes Dick up faster than any cup of coffee. Bruce opts to grab a coffee mug from the cabinet and make himself a cup. No sugars, no cream, just black. Dick finds it disgusting as he drowns his coffee in half n' half and flavored creamers so there’s no bitter taste left.

Dick tries to lighten the mood from his blunder, “So,” Bruce’s eyes dart to him, “You take your coffee like that because it’s black.... Like night....” Dick suddenly sports a shit-eating grin. Bruce huffs something out resembling a laugh. Dick takes it as a victory. He then launches into a rambling one sided conversation about the colors of what he wants his costume to be. Bruce quietly listens with clear intense focus. He nods at certain points such as Dick saying that he should have a short cape so they can have a similar silhouette but won’t harm Dick’s ability to do certain tricks. They don’t even notice Alfred walk in at first.

For the next few mornings, Dick becomes more acquainted with the kitchen. He notices Bruce waking up at the exact same time as him now. Six in the morning on the dot. They run into each other at the top of the stairs. On the fifth morning of this, Bruce waits for Dick at the top of the stairs. Their conversations simmer out into a comfortable silence. They automatically do certain things in tandem with the other. Bruce starts the coffee, readies certain things for whatever Dick wants to make while he waits for the coffee maker to finish. Bowls, mixers, flour, etc. Dick usually opts to make pancakes of some kind. While Dick makes them, Bruce makes coffee for the three of them now. He noticed Dick gravitating towards royal blue mugs, and so he makes Dick’s coffee in those. Bruce personally opts for large black mugs. Alfred opts for forest green mugs.

Dick likes the new routine. Different yet familiar.

One morning it’s broken. He doesn’t see Bruce at the top of the stairs. He looks into Bruce’s room, and sees no one in it. Dick blinks, somewhat disappointed.

He steps into view of the kitchen and already smells the familiar smell of breakfast. He sees two figures in the kitchen. Bruce quietly sips his coffee while sitting at the island. Alfred has his back turned, “You’re awake, Alfred?”

Alfred smiles warmly, back turned to Dick, “Why, for special occasions, of course I am, Master Dick.”

_Special occasions?_

Alfred quickly turns around to reveal a stack of crepes with a single lit candle in the center of the stack.

“Happy Birthday to you, Master Dick,” Alfred says warmly. Bruce has a cautious small smile.

Dick feels awkward.

_Ah, no wonder I woke up with dread._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a shorter chapter but. a lot happens and i feel like its the natural development of things  
> also due to how work is going rn i should have more time to write and such!!


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